


Relax Boss

by JokesterWrites



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Blowjobs, Breathplay, M/M, Zsaszlepot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 03:04:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6548068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JokesterWrites/pseuds/JokesterWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victor finds a way to help his boss relax.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relax Boss

**Author's Note:**

> Based off some incredible artwork by zsaszlepot-nsfw-fanart on Tumblr.

Oswald was pacing back and forth on the balcony. It was late at night and the moon was a simple sliver of light. There were times like tonight when he felt like his empire was teetering, ready to fall at a moment’s notice. It hadn’t helped that Jim had come by to see him, feigning friendship and wanting yet another favour. What had been an honest gesture between them once upon a time, was becoming a sour taste in Oswald’s mouth. He agreed though. Jim was able to provide better favours when he worked for the GCPD, and if he came through with his show of good faith, then Oswald wouldn’t have to waste Zsasz’s expensive talents on collecting a debt.

“Boss… you need to relax.” Victor told him. The thing about Victor was he was always so still, the only movement was those dark eyes trailing Oswald’s own jitters and the slow movement of a hand bringing up the cigarette to his mouth. The ember burned bright as he sucked in, and then soft billows of smoke escaped his lungs.

“Give me a smoke then,” Oswald snapped, mildly envious of the collected calm that Victor oozed.

“No. I’ve got a better idea.” Victor finished his cigarette and stomped it out under his boot. “Come inside.”

Oswald stared at his hitman’s retreating back, undecided on if he was going to remain out in the chilled autumn air, or if he should follow.

He followed.

Victor’s assured steps brought them to down a hallway on the third floor, and suddenly Oswald knew where they heading. His bedroom. Victor held the door open for him.

“What are we doing here?” Victor brushed his question aside, eyes on the tailored fit of Oswald’s suit. “This isn’t exactly the time for gett-” Victor cut off his question with a kiss, coaxing Oswald’s mouth open and pressing forward with his tongue.

Senses flooded with the addicting combination of nicotine, wine and Victor’s personal cologne. It was a musky woodsy scent that filled Oswald’s sensitive nose, and he breathed deep as Victor’s hands helped shove off Oswald’s suit jacket. He was vaguely aware that Victor was maneuvering him backwards, but he didn’t care, being far more interested in the shape of Victor’s lips and how his hands felt smoothing over the texture of Victor’s clothes.

Victor stepped back, studying his boss with calculating eyes. Assessing each pressure point he would touch to make Oswald his. Those cerulean blue eyes flicked over his shoulder, now aware of what Victor had done. There was a full length gilded mirror setup. The hitman moved around so he was at Oswald’s back, watching over the smaller man’s shoulder at their reflection. Victor looked composed, much unlike Oswald’s disarrayed state. His hands came around Oswald’s chest, slowly unbuttoning the waistcoat and letting it fall open. Thumbs teased under the shoulders of the vest, drawing the suspenders down. Oswald struggled out of them briefly, letting the strips of elastic hang off his pants. “Perfection. “ Victor’s eyes were firmly set on the mirror, and on the sensual mess that was his boss.

Oswald was enraptured by the vision before him. Victor’s pale hands sliding down his chest, sneaking inside the waistband of his trousers and palming the cock he found once inside. It was already half hard and grew in size as Victor tossed it in his fist while he nibbled along the crest of Oswald’s ear. “Stop.” Oswald stuttered, biting his thumb. His face was flushed, freckles standing out against the pale skin. Victor paused, “Are you sure?” he continued to slowly nibble down Oswald’s neck. Little did he know of the tingles that ran down Oswald’s spine.

“No. I just… this feels too nice.”

At that Victor stopped, withdrawing his hands. He turned Oswald to face him, “I could be less nice. Being rough is a bit more my style. Is that what you crave little Penguin? Someone to hold you down, deny your need to cum while the breath gets choked from you?”

Oswald swallowed. That did sound… enticing. “Don’t kill me.” He whispered, blindly putting his life in Victor’s hands.

“Now why would I do that? Not only do you pay generously, you let me play.” Victor smirked, and then he was kissing Oswald again. It was more forceful this time. Victor pushed Oswald down onto the bed, pausing only to remove his black coat and collared shirt. Oswald was once again firmly reminded of how dangerous Zsasz was. The puckered tally mark scars adorned his toned arms, and there was something alien about the smooth hairlessness of his unmarked chest.

Oswald forgot all about that as soon as Victor clambered onto the bed, rising over him. “Tell me when you think you’re about to cum.” There were more kisses, more palming and rubbing of Oswald’s cock and then Oswald was moaning, “So close.”

 

Suddenly Victor had his knee pressed between Oswald’s legs to allow the smaller man to rut and rub against him, while one large hand spanned over Oswald’s throat. The other hand was tugging up that pristine white shirt, reveal the sensitive lily white skin of Oswald’s stomach. There was a black treasure trail of hair leading into his trousers, and Victor was pleased by the darkening stain of precum spreading along the fabric as he tightened his grip every time Oswald breathed, “I’m close.”

With a practiced flick, Oswald’s trousers were opened and Victor’s hand was once again around the firm member, giving it a few experimental tosses before he settled into a pace that suited him. His boss was a beautiful disaster underneath him. Eyes closed, head tilted back, hair ruffled like bird’s feathers, with his pink tinged face eased into a expression of pure agonized bliss. Those thin lips were open, sucking in harsh gasps of air, and a small line of saliva trickled out. Victor leaned forward, licking it away.

Oswald’s small cries of “Soon”, were now turning into sobs of “Please,” as he was denied his orgasm over and over again by Victor’s hand around his throat and the other around his cock. Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes as he gasped for breath and begged for release.

“Just about there little Penguin.” Victor’s eyes were eager on his face, watching for that moment when it came close to being too much. He wasn’t ready to break the man yet. There… that was the flash he was looking for. Instantly he let go of Oswald and dragged him up, bracing him into the wall. Oswald’s eyes were dazed, the pupil’s dilated and then he felt Victor’s mouth around his cock and the world was suddenly brought into sharper focus. He placed his hands at the sides of Victor’s head, encouraging him to go faster. Victor had encircled a hand around his own throbbing cock, jerking it off in sync with his head bobbing down on Oswald’s length. It only took a few quick swirls of Victor’s tongue underneath the sensitive head of his cock to make Oswald cum hard. He shuddered, and cried out, sagging against the wall as hot ropes of cum spurted into Victor’s waiting throat. Victor matched, spilling his seed on the floor. The hitman sucked him clean and Oswald had to brace himself, his knees feeling too weak to hold him.

Victor stood and picked Oswald up, carrying him back to bed where he spooned against the little bird like man, offering soothing comfort in his gentle strokes and kisses. “Feeling more relaxed?” Victor asked softly. Oswald hummed in agreement, he was too comfortable to open his tired eyes and was soon asleep in Victor’s arms.


End file.
